|Louis Donovan (strikethose) wrote in repose,|
@ 2019-03-05 16:46:00
|Entry tags:||*log, atticus mcvickers, louis donovan|
log: antique store - louis and atticus
Who: Louis and Atticus
What: An evening visit to Repose Antiques.
Repose Antiques after dark could be a forbidding place. The statues cast stranger shadows than they did during the day, and the stacks of trinkets and oddities, the flat surfaces crowded with weird baubles, they paraded under the cast of halogen with an unusual liveliness. There was life in the store, and life in its objects. Louis was used to it by now, but there was a reason he closed up at sundown. Nothing came alive and wandered around under moonlight, but there was an eerie electricity to it.
The 'Closed' sign was flipped around, but the door was not locked, and lights still shone inside the store. Louis was cleaning up, placing rings back on their stands under the counter, straightening books on a shelf behind the front desk. Damian had already left for the evening, and now all there was to do was the chores of the days end.
He wasn't thinking about the dull throb in his chest, the want for something lush and fresh and urgently wanting. He was ignoring the necessity of a trip to the city to slake that aching thirst. He was feeling a little tired, and reveling in the routine of pulling the store together for closing. He was neatly dressed in a button down as always, curls lifting a little from the back of his head. The practiced repetition of locking cases and rearranging shelves was a balm that made everything else seem further away than it actually was.
He didn't notice anyone approaching the front door, and when the bell jangled he lifted his head, startled. "I'm sorry, we're - oh." A warm smile. "Hello."